The Soul Stealer
by Rollofthedice
Summary: Disguises are fickle things. So are people. Is it so surprising, then, that people make the best disguises?


**The Soul Stealer**

**Introduction**

To Antonio Jon Thompson, March 22 was shaping up to be a fine day indeed. At dusk, an extravagant limo service had taken him to the classy Luxif hotel, along with the other four of Las Vegas' most influential politicians. He had been served two hundred year-old wine from carafes inlaid with diamond, and had eaten caviar that was tastier than pickled fish had any right to be. More importantly, the armadillo had taken the opportunity to assess his 'business associates': the fellows who were always on the lips of the California governor, being invoked as either blessings or curses, and oftentimes both. All of the four, including Antonio, were in the limousine, seated and conversing with one another.

Tom Hunter was the loudest of the bunch. The ox had a booming voice, one that was seemingly at fault for whenever the limo rattled, despite the unkempt roads the car was driving through. His favorite and most fanatically consumed beverage was Everclear alcohol; it was rumored that the bovine's blood was so tainted by it as to be an effective antiseptic. Despite his habit, Tom never seemed to be drunk, and had a perpetually clear head.

Squiggus Jackson sat next to Tom, the rat's short and thin gray body staggeringly dissonant against the ox's. Throughout his younger years, Squiggus had been bullied because of his name and physique. Upon reaching adulthood, he turned his mind toward back-room political pursuits, soon becoming synonymous with legal corruption. One day, Squiggus' bullies were found dead in their sleep. Their deaths, however, were curiously absent from police records.

At the utterance of a quiet joke, Natalia Sinder laughed uproariously and grinned, razor-sharp teeth glinting in the light. A wild and unpredictable tigress, Natalia had started out as a hopeless orphan, and by the age of 21 was a multi-millionaire. Most men found her to be quite beautiful, and she had many suitors despite her reputation for burning down the houses of lovers who displeased her. Said reputation was misleading, however. She simply liked to set fire to any home she could get her hands on.

The last of the four was known as the 'Archduke', a feline enigma few living souls knew much about. Claiming to be a successful Russian entrepreneur, the Archduke mysteriously set up shop in California. Rumors flew around the cat like a tornado, and the media gave him an almost mythical air. Anybody who made a concentrated effort to learn about the Archduke had a tendency to disappear, seemingly off the face of the earth.

Together, the five animals were the most powerful individuals in the United States. The man they were about to meet, however, overshadowed them all.

The limousine suddenly stopped, and a bodyguard beckoned the five out of the car and towards the back entrance of an incredibly high skyscraper. Antonio blinked, surprised. He had never seen such a tall building before, and the Dalmatian made it a point to know the homes of every important person in Las Vegas. He and the others were ushered into a large elevator, which automatically lurched upward at an almost sickening speed. After a few minutes, its doors popped open to the seventieth floor, with a pleasant chime.

"Please, do sit."

A panther sat at the end of a long, rectangular table. His face was covered by a hood and metal mask, a toothy grin etched into shadowed silver. Antonio glanced at the rest of the group. With nods all around, they sat.

"Now, what's all this about? Who are you?" Tom Hunter asked, almost bellowing. The great cat in the wooden mask laughed, his deep voice echoing throughout the spacious room.

"In due time, my friend, in due time. I assume all of you received the letter?" The group nodded. In the morning they had each received an envelope containing a check for one billion dollars (One that did not bounce, and was cashed in immediately), with a requirement that they meet the benefactor face to face, without bringing security. The check was signed using only one letter – M.

"Good," M said. "Now, I should let all of you know that an incredible experience awaits." The panther laughed again.

"And unfortunately for your lives, it is fatal." M reached down beneath the table, and pressed a button. With a *click*, the elevator doors behind Antonio locked together. A strange, smoky gas was seeping into the room. When Antonio took another breath, a blinding pain bombarded his lungs, and he screamed. All the while, M cackled.

Within seconds, Antonio's vision began to grow dim. The pain became dull and distant, and his ears popped, blood trickling down the sides of his head.

The last thing he saw was the muzzle of a gunshot, and a cat jumping out of broken glass.

(Author's Note: Every chapter will most likely be brief, though of course the lengths will vary individually. This is not for timeliness; I simply have some difficulties writing chapters of length. Hopefully, my shortcoming should give the story a punctual and purposeful tone. Well, hopefully.

Criticism is welcome. _Constructive_ criticism will be embraced.)


End file.
